the surface flares
by BerkieLynn
Summary: "He doesn't always know what days she'll storm through the door, completely unwilling to talk about it. " Comforting fluff, could happen anytime during their established relationship.


A/N: I had a terrible evening so I wrote myself fluff. It's unedited/betaed so all mistakes/typos are my own.

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For all of TMC. And Jennifer. And Lou. And Amy. And Cindy. And Kit. And Robin and Jessica. The people in my life that make it suck less.

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_But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life, and thanks to a benevolent arrangement the greater part of life is sunshine. - Thomas Jefferson_

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He doesn't always know what days she'll storm through the door, completely unwilling to talk about it. Talk about anything.

He leaves her alone on those days, lets her throw her shoes one by one into the closet, their impact reverberating through the drywall. Waits her out while she tears her clothes off on her way to the bathroom, a trail of cotton and silk dotting the bedroom like breadcrumbs. Leaves her alone while she scrubs the day off her face, sometimes her whole body. Gives her space while she throws on casual clothes.

The clothes are how he knows when it's time to move in.

If she digs in the dresser for something of hers, it's not time. But when she plucks one of his worn t-shirts out of the hamper, that's his cue. That's when he'll make his way into the bedroom, padding over to her curled form on the mattress. He sits gently next to her, strokes a hand over her hip. Sometimes, she'll grab his hand, tangle their fingers together, catch his eyes and force a sad smile. Other times, she'll tug him to her, a silent request for him to mold himself against her, his larger frame cradling and supporting her.

But sometimes, she's unmoving. A solid, stubborn rock of sad and pissed off and she won't shove him off nor will she allow him access but he stays. Arranges himself as best he can around her, never stops touching her, never stops letting her know that he's there.

That he'll always be there.

And eventually, she'll talk. Maybe it was just a bad day in general, they were one step behind where they should have been, the lab took forever, Lanie didn't have anything useful, the boys were no help. Maybe the case was upsetting, unsettling, her unease stuffed down all day as she stoically did her job, finally releasing the valve at the end of the day and getting all the ugliness out.

This time though, it's about coffee.

"It just tasted off all day and I never really got enough caffeine in me to work efficiently," she whines.

He laughs at that, a soft chuckle at her ear and she turns in his arms so they're face to face, something between a pout and a glare on her face.

"I'm serious!"

"I know," he placates, dropping a kiss to her lips. "I just didn't expect this to be about the coffee machine. Maybe it needs serviced; I'll call the company to have them look at it."

That doesn't seem to make her feel any better, the space between her eyebrows scrunches up, her mouth twisted in disappointment. She lowers her chin toward her chest, fiddles with the hem of his sleeve.

"Maybe you could just…come make it for me tomorrow," she says hesitantly.

His heart leaps at what she's implying but he manages to contain his joy for now. He puts a finger under her chin, lifts her face to his. "Are you saying that the coffee didn't taste right today because I wasn't there to make it for you?"

She huffs at him, an adorable puff of air from her nose. "Yes." Her answer surprises him, all blatant honesty with an air of insistence, the single word from her mouth causing his to split in a grin.

"Okay," he says as a promise, sealing it with a kiss. "I will come be your personal coffee boy tomorrow."

She digs her fingers into his ribs and he squirms against her, reaches his hand toward her side in retaliation but she sees him coming and knocks him away with her elbow. He settles for running his fingers down her back, his palm landing heavy at the base of her spine, and pulling her flush against him. She halts her assault to wind her arm further around him, settles her forehead at his clavicle and sighs out against his skin.

"I missed you."

It leaks out with her breath and he's not sure that he heard her correctly at all.

"You missed me?" he asks. It's a little cloying, even for him but the thought that she had a bad day because she _missed_ him is too good to pass up.

She nods, her hair tickling his neck. "It's better with you there," she murmurs. "I'm better with you there."

He tightens his arms around her, holding her a little too tight against him but it matches the tightness in his throat and he swallows it down as best he can.

"I'm better with you, too."


End file.
